


In All His Kingly Providence

by Rider_of_Spades



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Akashi Masaomi's A+ Parenting, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst with a happy ending? At least I'm aiming for one, M/M, No Jabberwocks, No Sex, Not Akashi Seijuurou Bashing, POV Akashi Seijuurou, Psychopath Akashi Seijuurou, Psychopathology & Sociopathy, Psychopaths In Love, Unhealthy Relationships
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-15
Updated: 2018-09-02
Packaged: 2019-06-10 14:43:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,876
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15293748
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rider_of_Spades/pseuds/Rider_of_Spades
Summary: In a world where Seirin’s triumph does not bring Akashi back from the dark, the Emperor falls in love.Or, what happens if there only existed Rakuzan!Akashi, and the pure boy in Teikou was a mask all along.





	1. Checkmate

_Providence (n.) – 1. The protective care of God or of nature/ 2. Timely preparation for future eventualities_

 

Naturally, he knew that the heir to the Akashi main house and conglomerate could never conduct an exclusively homosexual relationship. For even if you did not bring in the taboos of their society, he was still obliged to produce successors. In their family, defined by lineage and status, an adoption was not possible, and grooming a cousin’s child would only be seen as conceding defeat. No, even before that, embracing his non-heterosexuality risked blackmail, the loss of his current position and at the very worst, disownment.

 

The key, then, was to make it a casual affair, and practice absolute discretion. He also needed a backup plan. A few backup plans.

 

Of course, the safest option would’ve been to never attempt such a dangerous venture at all. But would that not mean allowing others, however indirectly, to dictate what he could or could not want? One-time defeat or no, no one was still permitted to oppose him whenever they wished, and that included his parent.

 

It would be fine.

 

Never had the genius questioned his own logic as heavily as he did in this moment. Especially what had given him so much intent towards a courtship that would not benefit him in future, and was, furthermore, by necessity doomed to fail.

 

Part of it may have been his own insistence at getting an answer: why Furihata? Why not Reo, with their beauty, loyalty and superior talent; why not Shintarou if a challenge was what he desired? Why Seirin’s timid, unassuming commoner?

 

It was not as if the brown-haired mouse was hiding some surprise that could please him, like Tetsuya did. Seijuurou had tried to be fair and objective on that, even going so far as to hire a private observer. For two weeks he had studied those incoming reports, from the boy’s family to his activities and interests, as if they were as worthy of his attention as Sun Tzu or Plato. Still he had come to this disappointing conclusion.

 

So, confident as he was in his own ability to make sound decisions, he was still quite put-off at his choice. And consequently, curious. What had birthed these present instincts that so defied his elite nature?

 

Well. There was one way to find out.

 

In approaching a target so wary and frightened, one must be subtle. It was also important that he cultivate a better impression of himself than he had at first. In their current situation–they didn’t even live in the same prefecture–a meeting must appear happenstance. A heartfelt apology, too, wouldn’t hurt.

 

Fortunately, he had good reason to be at the capital this weekend. The National Shougi Conference hosted there had invited him as an honorary guest. His father, too, expected his returns regularly to survey the centre of their operations, which in itself heightened both the risks and opportunities.

 

Kouki could never guess how precisely he had arranged their first meeting after the Winter Cup. For one, it had to fit into Seijuurou’s busy schedule, and occur in a place that was not out of his own character to attend. He also had to be temporarily free of his father’s assigned bodyguards and chauffeur, which almost never happened except in school, at home or some location equally secure. Above all, the event had to seem random and completely natural to avoid any suspicion.

 

That was how Saturday found Seijuurou attending a dinner hosted by the company where Kouki’s parents worked. The free food, he’d guessed, would draw in complete families of subordinates. Sure enough, he spotted his target among the employees’ tables, and made a clever guise out of humble socialising to say hello. As expected (and most amusingly), his fellow point guard was quite literally terrified out of his wits but unable to excuse himself, not without publicly embarrassing his source of fear. Kouki’s lack of escape was further cemented when Seijuurou’s dapper looks and manners quickly charmed the Furihata women. By the time he needed to move on to other guests to prevent suspicion, he had gained two useful allies in assisting in his quest, and made an agreeable neutral party out of the father. It was only the effort of the moment then to exchange numbers with Kouki like a casual afterthought.

 

From there it was simply the matter of phoning to issue a gentle apology (to what Seijuurou imagined must be his hilariously flabbergasted expression) for frightening him, admitting a newfound respect for teamwork due to Seirin (which was true anyway) and making overtures of friendship. Predictably, the other was quite reluctant, stuttering and vacillating about their differences in status, but it was easy enough to feign reserved hurt. Seijuurou felt a sliver of triumph as Kouki folded. There was always something lovely about succeeding at a well-executed plan.

 

……

Courtship, he reflected, was really a very good way to practice governance. Not only did it involve character and mood interpretation as well as subtler forms of persuasion, one was also limited to methods that promoted a positive, gentle image. Compared to running a basketball team and a student council, it was quite an interesting and different sort of challenge.

 

Although, it was regrettably easier once he managed to coax Kouki into dropping his defences and opening his heart. That had taken him the better part of four months in bi-weekly visits, avoiding possible surveillance while charming his target. He had even gone to the trouble of getting a second phone and plan meets nowhere near their school grounds, with Seijuurou forever in contacts, glasses, a wig and contouring makeup. He took his lover to kitschy hippie cafes. He took his lover to underground slam poetry events. He took his lover to all the curiosities and shares with him secret pleasures he cannot indulge in as Akashi Seijuurou; places and things he tried to make certain Kouki will enjoy as well, and Kouki did the same (well, perhaps without the forbidden fruit element and a lot more study dates).

 

Seijuurou was equally pleased at discovering Kouki’s taste for the philharmonics. His little mouse had a hidden elegant facet after all.

 

…..

_He was always captivated by her feminine ability to camouflage herself. Just a sweep of powder here, a dab there, an application of colour where there was none and suddenly there was a different person standing before him. And so it delighted him, always, to have his turn at the transformation process as well._

 

_But nothing could compare to what would follow. Visits to museums and theatres and the orchestra she so loved, stops at the national library where she insisted that he indulge in children’s fiction and best of all, afternoon teas in little nooks at kitschy hippie cafes quite unbefitting of an Akashi. A glowing, deliciously sinful secret for just the two of them._


	2. Through the Window

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta'ed by the lovely KenjiroS. Everyone go check out her Haikyuu fanfics! :)

He was admiring an uncle’s antique butterfly collection when he finally understood. His fascination towards Kouki, his natural prey, was only normal. Just as a spider loves a butterfly, so too, would a king wish to taste what lay under the skin of his subjects.

 

Therefore, once he ate his fill and learned everything there was to learn, Kouki would no longer hold his interest.

 

……

_In a kinder world, Akashi Masaomi married out of love, defying his family’s wishes. In a kinder world, Seijuurou grew up the fruit of his parents’ happiness, although his father would be terrible at expressing it. In a kinder world, his mother would die, leaving behind a silently grieving man who did not know how to handle his grieving boy, but someday a basketball team would come and save him. In a kinder world, Akashi Seijuurou learned that defeat did not irreversibly mar him, just as his father learned that his son was more than strong enough to flourish in the harsh corporate jungle, and both learned that it was alright to let go._

_This was not that world._

……

 

Nevertheless, for as long as he was Seijuurou’s lover, he would receive treatment befitting of his status.

 

“Happy birthday,” he whispered with an appealing smile. Not that it was hard to. The expression on poor Kouki’s face was beyond stunned.

 

“I–but– _Akashi_ - _kun_ –”

 

“Sei-juu-rou,” he scolded, pressing one finger to heated lips. Then he let his eyebrows dip in the slightest feint of unhappiness. “Why? Do you not like it?”

 

“I DO, I REALLY DO!” exclaimed his excitable partner. “It’s just, wow. I mean, don’t you feel that this is a _lot_?”

 

 _Not if you know the owner._ “Of course not,” he said, a noise of merriment issuing from his throat. “It’s your birthday, isn’t it? You said you always wanted to visit a private beach.” Seijuurou turned, noting the state of the barbecuing foods. “Now it’s just the two of us.” _Except the bodyguards._ It had taken a while to coordinate the shifts, so that all the ones he would bring along tonight would be specifically loyal to him and keep silent.

 

“I, oh thank you, Seijuurou!” For a moment, he was nearly surprised by the kiss and hug.

 

(For a moment, something nearly stirred in him.)

……

 

_If he still remembered his mother at all, he would have a vague recollection of how the simplest things regarding himself would please her._

_“Oh Seijuurou, this is wonderful!” A tightening of the arms around him before she let go. “Let’s go frame this together, shall we?”_

_“It’s nothing to be proud of, mother,” he demurred._

 

_“Nonsense! This is going into the deposit box next to the Jazz Cat’s Paw.” Neither of them mentioned that was because his father would’ve insisted it be consigned to the trash._

_It was only a child’s pitiful mastery of oil painting, and certainly not worthy of any gallery. Her praise was utterly ridiculous. Seijuurou couldn’t help but grin._

 

……

 

As one of the privileged, Seijuurou was born to own and appreciate beauty. Music, artwork, literature, down to his rooms’ furnishings; there was nothing he possessed that was not tasteful or elegant. Even the females who approached him flaunted no less than the most exquisite faces and figures, though, their desire to lay claim to the young heir was quite something else.

 

In that respect, Kouki was simply no competition. His skin was not free of blemishes, and neither were his hands of calluses. Nor was he any Adonis beneath his clothes, and his face sported the plainest features. However, there was a delicate curve to his ankles and collarbones, and a mole on his nape akin to a beauty mark. Still not very much to look at, admittedly, yet Seijuurou finds himself surprisingly indifferent to this fact.

 

At least he was not unable to embrace Kouki, and that was what mattered.

 

……

 

_She was never the prettiest his father could’ve chosen, but made up for it through the standing of her family, a perfect complement to his rising status at the time. He understands that this is to be his duty too, to marry someone of aid to his own ascension eventually._

_Nevertheless, he thinks it would not be a problem, if they were someone like her. The upper-class society may whisper behind closed doors about Akashi Shiori’s looks but to him, there was a sweetness to the curve of her cheeks and her clever pianist’s fingers, and her rare smiles were like the rising sun._

_(There are no photos of her in the house anymore. There have been no photos of her for years.)_

……

 

“…So what are you up to, Sei?”

 

Seijuurou’s lips quirked. How adorable was it that Kouki now thought to possess him too, enough to bestow him a nickname? “I’m studying for my English test tomorrow.”

 

“A-ah! I shouldn’t have called you then, let alone talk so much–!”

 

“It’s fine, Kouki. I could use a break.” Truth be told, English was one of his first languages, so his knowledge was more than up to par for what passed as English tests in Japan –even Rakuzan was not exempt. However, it didn’t hurt to use the free time to brush up on his English literature. It wouldn’t do to grow complacent, and dissecting Faust was hardly a chore.

 

“Alright. I wish I was there to help you. Not that you need help with your English of course!” The other boy interjected quickly. “But maybe to give you a shoulder massage or something….? For your hard work….?” He could almost see Kouki’s deliciously reddened face at that last statement.

 

Seijuurou could have laughed. Kouki’s amateur hands could hardly compare to the Thai masseuses he had visited. Still, his little mouse could be rather …cute… in how hard he tried. The slight warmth of amusement flowed quietly through his senses.

 

“I appreciate the thought. Thank you, Kouki.”

 

“You’re welcome.” From his phone came a muffled shout, which sounded like Kouki’s mother calling for dinner. “Oh, gotta go. Good luck Sei. Love you! See you at the practice match next week!”

 

“Yes. I love you too.” In a way, he truly did. He was now almost as fond of Kouki as he was of his ivory chess set and Yukimaru.

 

……

 

_Seijuurou gritted his teeth. He had just had his essay on_ _the Russo-Japanese War_ _turned down by his history tutor. Apparently his elaborations were too immature._

_The shamefully childish side of himself wanted to impress his status upon the woman, for having the audacity to insult him in such a manner. Thankfully, his rationale said that Akashis did not fail or get overly emotional. He vowed that his next attempt would leave the Todai history graduate speechless._

_“Seijuurou? What’s the matter?” It was his mother and a maid, bearing a tray._

_“Nothing of great consequence.” He frowned a little. “Shouldn’t you be resting?”_

_“Oh, I feel much better today. Can’t always be in bed, or my bones will turn to mush,” She chuckled. “I made lemon daquoise. Come have tea darling, you’ve been working all day. Then we’ll play some basketball. How does that sound?”_

_He blinked. “But–”_

_“Your father’s out in Hokkaido. He won’t be returning ‘til next week.”_

_It was a terrible temptation. She must’ve gone out of her way to ensure any servants present would keep their silence too. He should still refuse, except he could never say no. Not to her._

_Not to committing a transgression under the roof of his father, his mind sneered._

_“Alright.”_

_Her baking tasted wonderful as usual._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yukimaru is canonically Akashi's pet horse. If you can guess why I used "ivory chess set" instead of, say, mahogany, I will love you forever.


	3. The End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember the 'No Sex' tag? Yeahhhh I think I might've toed the line a little.

Unfortunately, this was when, as Daiki would so crudely put it, “shit hit the fan”. An apt description nonetheless. To outsiders his father may be the very picture of collectedness, but the displays of temper that used to frighten his younger self never failed to be spectacular.

 

He supposed he must’ve let something slip, failed to cover his tracks as thoroughly as he got too comfortable. A lesson he will not need to re-learn.

 

“Father,” He made sure to enunciate clearly with a level tone, for any show of potential weakness would only further trigger the man’s temper. “It was just a useful exercise on how to seduce a man. Surely there are some with similar appetites in our careers. And no one need know.”

 

“If you think that ample reason for an Akashi to _whore_ himself–”

 

“I am no one’s whore, father,” he cut in. “No matter what the context, those who approach me in such a fashion may only subjugate themselves.”

 

The head of the family issued a contemptuous snort. “As long as you remember that an Akashi is enslaved by _no one_ and respected by all.”

 

Seijuurou gave the smallest bow. “Of course.”

 

……

 

In actuality, his father need not worry. To use the cliché, all good things must come to an end. There would always be the eventual moment where a relationship had lost all its intellectual stimulation, however regrettable, and by now, he had plumbed as much as could be had from Kouki on how to handle homosexual relations. It was time to move on.

 

…Except, there was something in the dark side of his mind that appeared to resist the notion. Something that wanted to tighten its grip on Kouki instead of loosen. Something that thrummed uncomfortably underneath his ribcage and writhed with agitation.

 

( _minemineminemine_ )

 

The redhead frowned. Was he, Akashi Seijuurou, actually becoming _dependent_?

 

No, he decided. Although a more than sufficient companion Kouki may be, he was, ultimately, nothing irreplaceable. He still harboured no typical symptoms of emotional commitment towards the boy. No fluttering of heart, nor great wash of emotion upon thinking of him.

 

Rather, it must have been the respite a commoner like Kouki provided. Someone around whom Seijuurou did not have to be extremely careful of himself, for those of averageness had lower standards of perfection. Which, could be very bad for his discipline in its own right and needed to be monitored, but not as dangerous.

 

Their relationship was merely convenient.

 

Seijuurou stood and went for his phone. At least Kouki was easy enough to warn off blackmailing him with exposure.

 

……

 

_Sometimes, he suspected that the other reason his father married her was because she was occasionally frail. The Takemoto conglomerate was a considerable entity after all, and as eldest daughter his mother was entitled to a good portion of its shares, to say nothing of her own personal assets._

 

_As such, she was sick again, and hospitalised this time. Pneumonia, the doctors had said. He didn’t know what that was and silently noted to himself to look it up. Already he despised this gap in his knowledge._

 

_“Come in.” She was coughing again. Painful coughs, from the sound of them. He hoped the sight of her favourite flowers would bring her some small measure of comfort._

_Red. That was the first thing he saw as he rounded the corner. Red on her lips, red spotting her bedsheets. It was as if his senses shrunk down to those few drops of red._

_An older Seijuurou would have kept calm and surmised that there was a perfectly ordinary reason behind it. But this Seijuurou was seven years old and still uncertain of the universe, and so he clutched the lilies in his hands tightly while his heart thundered._

_“Don’t worry, Seijuurou. It’s nothing, I promise. It’ll get better.” She cupped his cheek affectionately. “Then we’ll get to go see the fossils again. Would you like that?”_

_“Yes, thank you.” Most of him believed her, but the spooked animal in his brain still whispered that her periods of illness had been steadily growing longer throughout the years. He must’ve spoken too stiffly, for she took his hand in hers._

_“Seijuurou,” He looked properly at her; it wasn’t often she sounded so firm. “I’ll definitely get better, ok? I will be alright.”_

_Perhaps it was the trick of the light making her countenance gaunt; perhaps it was how gently she touched him. Either way something possessed him to burst out, “You promise?”_

_Her lips quirked, probably at his rare moment of childishness. How mortifying. “I promise.”_

_Yes, she would never leave him. He was content._

……

 

Now that their affair was settled, it was high time that he disposed of all evidence. He took out the matches and retrieved the box in his safe, to be placed in the bathtub. Then all that was left to do was drop the flaming stub in his hand on the lot.

 

He held the match over the photos. It did not fall.

 

Any minute now.

 

His fingers gripped harder on the fast-burning stick.

 

Well. Seijuurou shifted on his feet, puzzled. Surely, surely he was not thinking of keeping them? That was absurd, beyond irrational. Not only were these pictures of no worth, preserving them would only pose an unnecessary danger.

 

This was when the flame touched his fingertip and he startled.

 

There. However the manner, the deed was done. As it should be.

 

He watched the hungry conflagration and frowned.

 

……

 

Given his schedule, he didn’t often entertain his teenage body’s fleshly needs. It wasn’t as if he was abstinent, but between basketball, the student council, his studies and learning the ropes of business, the press of activities was quite enough to quench even his young libido.

 

Therefore, he would greatly prefer if the rare luxury of it wasn’t spoiled by flickers of his now-former paramour.

 

_Kouki’s gaze lowered shyly, sunlight turning his eyelashes to gold._

No. _Lengthy raven hair slipping across a plentiful bosom–_

_Kouki bearing his marks on his shoulders._

_–rice-pale ample hips–_

_Kouki’s silk-soft lips on his cock._

_–sandy toned arms–_

_Kouki crying out “Seijuurou”._

He groaned and threw aside a pillow.

……

 

It had only been reasonable to expect Kouki to leave his mind as cleanly as the others before him. Life was filled with more interesting and urgent matters than one’s past dalliances after all.

 

So why then was he still a flash of thought, to surface in a random association? Why had he hesitated before common sense reasserted itself, before he had burned all their mementoes? Why the dismayingly weak impulse to touch himself to the memory of Kouki’s burning bedroom eyes? It was his pre-courtship issues all over again.

 

No. Surely it was just the lingering sweet triumph of his first successful relationship with a man, nothing more. An Akashi was not to be bound by his own impulses, least of all Seijuurou.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Btw, does anyone know of any songs that sound like 30 Seconds to Mars' "Hurricane"? I need a dramatic melancholic song to write an equally dramatic Akashi.
> 
> (Or, you know, just any song this story reminds you of. That'd be cool too.)


	4. Hunter Eyes (Genghis Khan)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's a cheat somewhere  
> 'Cause I don't really want you, girl  
> But you can't be free  
> 'Cause I'm selfish, I'm obscene
> 
> -Miike Snow, Genghis Khan

Tetsuya shouldn’t have shown so much anger on his face. He truly did not befit the expression. “Why, Akashi-kun?”

 

Seijuurou’s eyes narrowed. “He told you?”

 

“LIKE HELL HE WOULD!” Kagami Taiga roared, sounding almost like his English namesake. “If he hadn’t obviously lost weight or sleep–if we hadn’t caught him _crying_ behind the school–”

 

“Most admirable of you to care for your teammates, Kagami Taiga,” He cut in imperiously. “Even so, what transpired between he and I is none of your business.”

 

Daiki, who had been lounging in the background, chose this moment to speak up. His voice was smeared with contempt. How disappointing. “When Tetsu told me something was wrong with you, I thought he was taking the piss. But he was right. You really have changed back.”

 

“Speaking of change, Daiki, I must say I’m quite surprised by yours. It’s been a long time since you’ve been so beholden to any person.” His steady gaze on the redhead left them with no doubt as to the subject of his reference. Then he stepped aside as Kagami Taiga lunged at him and walked away, confident as ever that Tetsuya would prove the voice a reason, no matter his own provoked state.

 

……

 

_Lost. He had lost._

_The cold that pervaded him caused his surroundings to fade into so much white noise. Here, he was untouchable. Here, he could not have sullied himself; he could not have proven so_ weak _as to lose to commoners; could not feel the freefall roar away inside him. He did not live in a topsy-turvy world._

_Dimly, he sensed rather than felt his numbed lips pull into an affable smile, as he congratulated ~~the victors~~ his opponents on a good game. Oh. It had literally been years since he felt the need to don Teikou’s freshman Akashi Seijuurou, yet it could never feel more natural. Now he truly knew what others meant by the phrase “like riding a bicycle”. _

_Later on, he would be dismantled, a slow and agonising process over the course of the ride home and in his own bathroom._ _Later on, no one could hear his silent shrieks or see his wild eyes, not even the contract-bound maids._ _Later on, the sea howled and howled at him through his veins, until he could neither sleep nor eat, and it would seem an age before he glued all the pieces of himself together again._

 

_But for now, for the long second he grasped Kuroko’s hand in outward camaraderie, his world was glacial and perfect._

……

 

It was only several months later at the InterHigh when he saw Kouki again.

 

Saw? Why would he even take note again of a former lover at all? Seijuurou shook his head. Furihata Kouki should have no longer been of any romantic significance.

 

Rather, his mind was merely registering Seirin’s reserve point guard in the stands, whose face had taken on a deep white pallor, likely from being near him and Rakuzan. Dutiful nonetheless of him not to run away from observing the enemy.

 

Seijuurou frowned, glancing closer. He looked thinner. How …appalling of an ex of his to let himself go this way.

 

His hands tightened on the basketball.

 

Now, it would be no boast to say that his Emperor Eye saw all. His sight was absolute on court. The Eagle and Hawk Eyes had been no match, even if his team did prove wanting against Seirin in the end. Therefore, it was no difficult task to note at halftime, the way Kouki’s personal space, once his, was now protectively shielded and moulded by another of Seirin’s no-name second-years.

 

…Which was none of his business really, but he would not tolerate that frightened, half-healed, but insolently determined stare Kouki currently dared level _directly at him_.

 

_(Not when he used to look at him like he was the whole world.)_

 

……

 

_“Seijuurou.”_

_He stiffened. For one split second, and only one second, the ugliness in him that was always there wanted to raise his voice against her for daring to speak as if he were some great disappointment. Yet another, larger portion desired nothing more than to curl up and whine for her forgiveness._

_“Look at me, please. Can you tell me what happened? Why did you push the other boy down the stairs? He could’ve gotten seriously hurt.”_

_Why? Because he had the gall to try and exert dominance over Seijuurou, of course. The pathetic brute had thought his greater size sufficient to make an Akashi cower, and Seijuurou, in emphasising his own strength, had thought to teach him a lesson. There was absolutely nothing wrong with that. It was a case of eat or be eaten._

_He kept his peace. He might only be six, but he instinctively knew his mother, who smiled with her whole heart and bowed politely to others, would never see it that way._

_(Just like the teachers and everyone else.)_

_(Well, except possibly his father, who denied him dinner anyway, for injuring a fellow elite.)_

 

_“Seijuurou?”  
_

_  
Perhaps a half truth would be adequate. “He threatened me. I was scared and panicked.”_

_His mother’s expression finally, finally softened as she stroked his face. “Oh darling. I understand. But it was still wrong of you to push him; we don’t resort to violence alright? Just call for a teacher next time.”_

_And be seen as dependent on the protection of others? He would sooner abase himself by obeying that bullying oaf._

_He would just have to be more subtle._

_“Alright, mother.”_

 

……

 

In hindsight, Akashi could admit to himself that his assessment of Kouki’s appearance required reviewing. Perhaps it was the confluence of the lighting and exposure after a prolonged absence, but up close his miserable countenance was, in its own way, actually somewhat ravishing.

 

“What’s the matter, Kouki?” He purred, taking care to make his voice exceptionally low and gentle. He attempted to brush away the other boy’s tears, only to have his knuckles rougly swatted. “I’m sorry you’re so upset. Come now, let me comfort you. You know I can make you feel so good.” He could too. He would, until Kouki would never think to challenge him again. “Surely that boy, Fukuda, could not satisfy you. Do you remember, Kouki? Do you remember how it felt to be under m–”

 

WHAP!

 

The hit to his shoulder was hardly forceful enough to push him away, yet it did. “I don’t know what the _hell_ you’re talking about,” Kouki sobbed, glare fierce as ever. “But I don’t want to hear it. I never want to see you again, Akashi. Leave me alone!”

 

And with that he ran off, leave Seijuurou to stare at his fast retreating silhouette.

 

……

 

_He was not supposed to be hearing this conversation, he knew that much, no matter how it concerned him. Yet his instincts were ringing at him to stay, and so he hid behind her skirts and made himself small._

 

_“Ma-masaomi, don’t you think it’s too early? He’s only five years old.”_

_“Nonsense. One of my cousins met his wife the same way. Besides, it is only logical. The Minatori family has been mercurial in their rise to the power. Best to snatch the girl up now before the rest of the families swoop in.”_

_Standing behind her, Seijuurou saw the exact moment her spine straightened. “But a family rumoured to have ties to the gokudou–”_

_“Would be no less beneficial to the Akashi name.” His father’s voice hardened. “Do not be naïve, Shiori. That fool of my old man may believe in staying on the straight and narrow, but there is no such thing as keeping one’s hands entirely clean. Not in this world.”_

_“Surely there are other families–”_

_“Oh? Are you against my decision, Shiori?” The man cut in silkily, tone now positively dangerous. “Are you actually challenging me?”_

_“N-no! I–”_

_“Because, curiously enough, you sound as if you might be.” The predatory gleam in his eyes flickered. “Never let me hear you speak in such a manner against me again.” The threat was left hanging as the man turned away, clearly dismissing them both._

_Ordinarily his mother would leave at this point, quiet and disheartened. This was no ordinary day. Takemoto Shiori inhaled deeply._

_“Masaomi–”_

__  
  
“SILENCE! You will not disobey me, woman, and neither will your boy, or–”

_Alarmed, he opened his mouth to stop his mother, but it was too late. She was already reduced to panicked babbling. “P-p-please! You cannot, must not marry Seijuurou off to such a family–”_

_SLAP!_

_Redness bloomed on her cheek before anyone registered what had happened. The room fell eerily soundless._

 

 _From the way Akashi Masaomi stared at his hand, one would think it was she who’d injured him instead. But Seijuurou understood. He was merely dismayed at this unexpected loss of control over his own body_. _He would not hit her again. He… would not._

_The boy tightened his own fists._

_“GET OUT!” The man roared. His mother took his hand and ran._

_The marriage arrangement was never mentioned again._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did you get a good laugh out of Akashi's seduction fail? My editor did. :P Just think, this is exactly the kind of rubbish Furihata has to put up with. #saveFurihataKouki2k18
> 
> And oh, do check out the song Genghis Khan; the MV is literally the gayest James Bond parody I've ever seen and IT. IS. GLORIOUS: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=P_SlAzsXa7E


	5. Dominoes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warnings: mental breakdown, dissociation, loss of a loved one. This story is finally starting to earn its mature rating.
> 
> (On a happier note, shout-out to xxELF21xx, akaashi and my wonderful beta KenjiroS for song recs! Thanks a lot you guys. ^__^)

He would not have anything to do with Furihata Kouki again, the impudent creature. Bad enough that Seijuurou had turned back and shown interest in him again, the rejection compounded the insult. No, he would not even glance his way when surveying Seirin’s practice match.

 

He seemed friendly enough with that Fukuda.

_That’s quite enough._

 

His smiles were now far less brittle.

 

_Cease this at once._

 

His appearance was actually much healthier this time.

 

_Stop it!_

 

Furihata Kouki was to have no hold over his life anymore.

 

…….

 

_He was hiding again, not yet old enough to understand that this was useless. At least this time he knew not to choose a desk or behind a curtain, but rather a wardrobe in one of the many rooms of the manor. His pudgy little hands tightened their hold on his torso in nervousness, only to bring about a fresh sheen of tears. His latest tutor favoured the cane, and his lashings had been generous._

_“Seijuurou?” He flinched, but it was only the voice of his mother. Slowly, he crawled out of the laundry basket and opened the door. “Oh there you are sweetheart! I was so worried.” Gentle arms encircled him and lifted him gingerly into her lap. “Oof. You are getting almost too heavy to carry darling.” He clung even tighter at those words, suddenly worried that she would let go. He didn’t want to leave her embrace, where it was snug. Warm._

_Suddenly her curves morphed into something flatter. He blinked and looked upwards. His mother was gone, and hugging him in her place was a brown-haired nii-san in a simple black school uniform. He should be upset at her disappearance, but he was not. For some reason he felt as secure in his arms as he did hers._

_“Oh Seijuurou.” The older boy said, with no small amount of sorrow. “It’s ok now little one, I’m here.” He slowly pulled up his arm to inspect the marks and clucked his tongue. “Hold on, I will go get the first aid kit–”_

_No. He was not going to leave. Seijuurou wouldn’t allow it. He clutched both the other boy’s sleeves in an iron grip._

_“Hey, it’s fine. Nothing’s gonna happen to you ok? You’re safe now.” He soothed, carefully patting his back. Then he looked him in the eye, all grave seriousness. “I swear I will protect you, Akashi Seijuurou, with all my life. For I lo–”_

 

Seijuurou’s eyes snapped open, and just like that, everything clicked.

 

He was in love with Kouki.

 

He was. In love with Kouki.

 

No, no, that was ridiculous. It was most assuredly a miscalculation on his part. The other boy had been a truly interesting target; he was expressing an unfortunate amount of sentiment over their memories together, that was all. The dreams and urges meant nothing, he was not tied downhewasnothewasnothewasNOT _HOW COULD THIS HAPPEN?!_

_Outside his body_ _he heard a crash then another, musical accompaniment to the crash inside him, for how long he knew not. Perhaps it had been hours. He knew not. All he could hear was the screeching symphony around him; all his world was shrunk down to the roaring, drowning tsunami of fear. Somewhere distantly he felt a stinging pain; was that a cut on his face? By the time the lights came back on in his head_ _the colours had resolved_ to an upended chair here, some ruined books there, and mirror shards at his feet. The room had been completely dismantled, and still the night went ruthlessly, on and on.   
  
The truth went on and on. And there was nothing he could do.

 

…..

 

_There were only several, rare times in his sixteen-year-old life where Akashi Seijuurou would experience an absolute loss of control over a situation. One was when Atsushi challenged him; another when he lost to Seirin, and lastly, when he found himself love’s prisoner._

_The first time, however, would forever be the death of his mother._

_He wanted to rail, to scream against the world, against her corpse. YOU PROMISED YOU WOULDN’T LEAVE ME! He wanted to shake her, as if she would wake at any moment; make a scene of himself and give the mourners something to really look at._

_And yet, he always knew didn’t he? That her promises to get better had been her kindest and cruellest lies. It was his fault he allowed himself to be misled by them, his fault that the reality of her borrowed time was ignored. His fault for clinging to the foolish, emotionally immature delusions of a mere child._

 

_(And deep within, dwarfed by the beast bellowing in pain that was inside him, some tiny kernel that could’ve been love for Akashi Shiori grew cold and shrivelled.)_

_It was time to grow up and move on._

 

……

 

_Ah. Weren’t their hair the same colour?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My theme song for Akashi's feelings re: his mother's death is this Chinese ballad (English lyrics in CC): https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mGeiABBB5f8
> 
> It's actually a song meant for lovers, but the sentiment and lyrics still fit. Incidentally, it's also my song for how Furihata feels about Akashi right now. Let that connection sink in.
> 
>  
> 
> IMPORTANT: Guys, I'm... hitting a difficult stage in my writing. Partly because I don't have as much time now due to my new job, partly because of stress due to said job, partly because chapter 8 and beyond deal with very emotionally difficult topics that also happen to draw from (some) personal experience. (No, I'm not a psychopath or have a failed relationship lol.)
> 
> So, I'll be posting more slowly from now on. Might even take a hiatus past chapter 7 or 8. BUT, I'm definitely not giving up on writing this fic! I just need more time. Here's a look at the progress we have so far:
> 
> Chap 6- missing one scene, almost complete  
> Chap 7- complete  
> Chap 8- 65% complete  
> Chap 9 & above -vague concepts, need help from the gods...
> 
> ...yeah. Someone send me divine intervention. 
> 
> In the meantime, I might start up other works to de-stress, kickstart the creative juices or keep up the writing habit. Just wanna let you guys know it doesn't mean I'm giving up on this. :)


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